Miniature men

As my daughter Betty sat watching the other children playing, my thoughts were on the night before.  My strange but true story had made me question my sanity. The words of the dancing men will haunt me. Could a miniature figure really influence so much? Was it just superstition?

The event happened two nights ago, we were settling in for the night.  Mike had made steaming hot chocolate and was going through his usual routine of stirring it five times to the right and then two to the left.  He had many strange quirks and this one fascinated me.  As I sat at the high kitchen bar watching him, I noticed the miniature dancing men on a nearby shelf.  As Mike talked, another voice raised above it, one I had never heard before.

“Amy, save the blonde girl, save her,” I jumped.

“Mike did you hear that? The miniature men talked”.

“Amy the only voice I heard was my own, here love, your hot chocolate”.

 

I bought the wooden men from a small charity shop on Brighton High Street.  As I picked them up the sales assistant said,

“You don’t want them, their previous owner appeared terrified when she dropped them off.”

I should have left them but I was curious, the miniature men looked harmless; just happy dancing figures.

“I’ll buy them, how much?”

“Ten pounds fifty pence.”

Reaching into my purse I paid her and watched as she put them in a carrier bag.  How could inanimate figures cause such distress?

I was fine with my purchase until today.

The missing girl

Tonight watching the news I was shocked by the headline of a missing girl –  blonde Caroline, nine years old. Am I supposed to save her? How?  Looking at the miniature men they stare back at me smiling.  This is too much of a coincidence, I need to find her. Where do you start looking for a missing child? Mike doesn’t believe my supposed destiny here. After all, why would an inanimate figure talk to me?

As a housewife a mission like this is extraordinary. I know I heard them but how could I?  I guess its not for me to question, I just need to find her. Reading through Google there is nothing obvious as to what might have happened. I needed to talk to the miniature men again, if they will talk again.

A Visitor

Interrupted by the ringing door bell, my thoughts were distracted.  Pushing myself out of my comfortable arm chair I wondered who it was this late in the evening.  Opening the door I was shocked to see someone I hadn’t seen in years.  Since my parents divorce many years ago I hadn’t seen or spoken to my sister.  Here on my doorstep was an older version of me.

“Hello Amy, we have a problem.” Haven’t seen her in years and she arrives with trouble.

“Oh, what problem?”

“Can I come in?”  motioning her in, I stepped back as she walked past me. Not waiting to be offered a seat, she sat in my chair, her eyes were flittering around the room.

“Where are they?”

“Where are what?”

“The miniature dancing men, I gave them to the charity shop as I couldn’t burn them.  You were then stupid enough to buy them, they’re a curse.”

“How do you mean?” I thought of my quest.

“Amy, they give impossible tasks.  Weeks ago they told me to look for a small boy”.

I thought of a recent newspaper article of a small child found dead.

“Jane, where did you buy them from?”

Rosemary

“I didn’t buy them, I inherited them. My step mother died and they were in her house.  Her death was not suspicious, heart attack, but having heard those men talk I am wondering if she was supposed to be following their instructions too.  Oh, Amy a small boy is dead because I didn’t believe I needed to do as those men said.”

“Have you seen the news report about the missing girl, Caroline?”

Shaking, Jane said, “Have they spoken again? There’s a serial killer isn’t there?

“They told me to find the blonde girl.  Caroline is blonde and I don’t know where to start looking. By the sounds of it those men are going to continue sending us to find children until their captors are found. So, why our family?”

“My stepmother Rosemary dabbled in the occult.  The men are somehow connected to her, maybe there’s some foresight happening, but they are made of wood.  I know nothing of the occult but do know the curse of causing pain to someone by putting pins in a doll.”

“This is serious,”  feeling scared, we had to do something here.  How it’s all connected we might never know, but it appeared our family had been given an awesome task.

“Jane, I haven’t seen you in years and obviously never knew Rosemary, but thanks for finding me.  Till now I had questioned whether I did hear them speak and was alone.  Now we have each other, there must be some sort of destiny at play here.”

A week later

Following different leads and asking questions we had been unsuccessful, till last night.  A dream that spoke to me of a long tunnel with a dark room with the dancing miniature men. Then a scream and one word, Victoria. Waking with a jolt I knew where to look.  Grabbing my phone I dialled Jane, waiting impatiently as it rang.

“Amy its 3am, what do you want?”

“We need to get to Victoria Tube Station now, trust me the girl is there.”

“I’ll pick you up, see you soon.”

The traffic was clear from Brighton to London and we made good time.  Running into the station I shouted to the first worker I saw.

“Do you have meeting rooms unused underground?”

“Not meeting rooms mam but there are rooms, not open to the public.”

“Please send someone to check them out urgently.”

“Why?” he was suspicious. “I can’t send someone down.”

“You will, and I’m phoning the police, this is urgent.”

I watched him talk on his radio as I dialled 999.  Not sure if I would be believed, I reported it as an emergency at Victoria Tube station.

An hour later

As we sat yawning and struggling to stay awake, drinking tea, we watched with relief as railway workers and the police appeared with a small dirty child and a man in handcuffs.  I couldn’t see blonde hair but this had to be her. I wondered who the miniature men would send me to find next.

“Madam, you were right, this is the missing child that the police couldn’t find, how did you know she was here?”

I looked at Jane and smiled. “Miniature wooden men and a dream.”

He looked at me, “ Sorry you are not making sense.”

“Yes, sir, I know, you’d better sit down.”

 

Written for Blog Battle – Miniature

For more see An exotic cocktail and a family